Jesus, it's that time of year already?..

Wednesday, December 09, 2009

Jesus, its that time of year already?..

...You see what I did there?
Yup, thats right kids, Christmas (or, the holidays as our American chums would have it) is just around the corner and geese all over the land are getting fat. Mistletoe is being hung from pub and office doorways alike, fake snow being sprayed into the corners of unsuspecting windows and all fast-food chains suddenly have a festive menu (the same shit with the word festive slapped in front of it). That last bit sounded cynical. It wasnt meant to be. Yes, yes, it can all get very advertisey and consumerist bombardment overloady, but those little blue sparkly lights everywhere and the smell of eggnog latte hanging thick in the air fills me with shoulder shrugging warmth and what can only be described as that Christmassy feeling.

Im not sure I know anyone who hasnt vocalised their disbelief at how quickly this Christmas has come around. It really doesnt seem a full twelve months ago that we were finishing up touring for the year, excitedly downloading goose recipes and planning decorations that would out-do the previous years efforts.
Its been a year of change. Arent they always?
Lots of moving on in personal lives and in the collective life of the band. Some changes easier settled into than others but all, certainly, positive and most really rather exciting.
All of a sudden we have a new album on our hands (or should that be ears?) and from the preliminary monitor mixes so far, none of us are able to contain our excitement or pride much past a slightly muffled scream. We really cant wait for yall to hear it. Youre going to love it almost as much as we do, I assure you.
Theres plenty of mixing and mastering still to be done, of course so that horrid old virtue, patience, is going to be at a premium for a little while yet.
Its on its way though. Awesome things come to those who wait.

So this is all of us aboard Good Ship Stone Gods wishing you all the merriest of Christmases, the happiest of holidays and the silentest of nights. Youll be glad of the last one. Next year is going to be fucking LOUD.

Peace, love, baubles;
SG

Happy bonfire night!

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Wishing all of you guys and gals a happy and SAFE bonfire night. Remember remember the 5th of November and all that, but do also remember to stand well back!
SG

Recording Album 2, The Story So Far...

Monday, November 02, 2009





What better way to begin the recording of our second opus than to have a group trip to The Three Boars at the bottom of the lane?

That’s right: no better way at all.

It had taken Dan and I four and a half hours of traffic tedium, lessened only by the ipod’s uncanny knack of only playing Cat Stevens in “Shuffle” mode, to get up to the farm from dear old Brighton.

Robin was bringing up the rear, as it were, without the aid of radio and was lightening his mood with podcasts concerning the arrival of the Russians during WW2. Perhaps the invasion of Russians could explain the traffic lockdown that seemed to hinder our every turn.

After a coupe of hours of looking at snare drums it was decided that a quick drive to Wymondham’s fish n’ chip shop was the best dinner option and following the onset of a mushy-pea driven coma the thought of “blowing the froth off a few” down the local was a delightful one.

We were roundly welcomed back into the fold by the locals and a splendid time was had by all, although proprietor, Tony, took exception to Robins use of the word “Knackers” and rang the swear bell twice. He didn’t seem to object to the words “Fuck” or “Wankers” but, then, perhaps he didn’t hear. It’s by the by, but Adi Vines once spent eighteen pounds in the swear jar of the Boars in one night due to his elaborate use of Victorian English. On returning a few days later he said, “Look, I’m sorry about all the language the other night. Am I back to a clean slate?” and when he was answered with, “Yes, yes, of course you are” he could only reply, “Thank fuck for that”.

And so to bed. Early start and all that.


Day one.

There’s never going to be an awful to report on the first day of a recording session or, “Set up day”, as the professional terminology dictates.

Drums are tuned, microphones are put in place, vast quantities of tea are consumed. The American band who vacated the premises only minutes earlier had seen fit to leave behind a plate of cinnamon dusted pastries that their singer had baked. Very kind. They also left a bottle and a half of very reasonably priced red wine, which will be given a particularly good home, don’t you worry about that.

As I type this, Robin can be heard banging the bejesus out of his drums. They’re getting the levels all sorted. There must be something I ought to be doing. Well, I suppose that kettle’s not going to boil itself.


Day two.

Eggs all round for the early realisation that the clocks have gone back. “So it's actually only half nine?” asks a slightly miffed-out-of-an-extra-hour-in-bed Robin. He finds a pair of Shakademus (pliers) to put his not inconsiderable plumbing skills to the test for the upstairs bathroom. Only moments earlier I had discovered that the bath/ shower setting was stuck to “shower” when I received a cold jet of water to the back of the head whilst leaning over the tub to prepare my morning plunge. I know you’re only supposed to spend a nano-second in the shower these days in the spirit of saving the world and all that, but I’ve always been more of a bath man, truth be known. I don’t want to open a can of eco-warrior worms here, but as my friend Wayne once said, “I’m not entirely sure that the world is immediately going to turn into an uninhabitable fireball just because The Kaiser Chiefs have left their phone chargers plugged in”. Wise words, indeed.

Rich and I head to the supermarket to pick up the requisite bits and bobs for dinner. As I climb into the Mondeo Rich is sat, one hand on the wheel, the other stretched, father-like, over the back of the headrest as he listens to the theme tune from Superman. That’s just how he rolls.

We get "spotted" in Sainsbury's by a chap who's still got the sticker informing us of his waist and leg measurements stuck on the back of his jeans. Didn’t have the heart to tell him, of course.

On our return we get cracking and everything comes together with remarkable ease. It seems that all the pre-production we've done is paying off rather well.

The hours whip by and before we know it, it's dinnertime.

I knock up a rather spectacular chilli-con-quornay accompanied by my award winning garlic chiabatta and a glass of the three-for-a-tenner wine we’ve become partial to. I like cooking for grateful mouths. "That was great, Tobes," says Robin, "Mind you, I was so hungry I would have eaten any old shit". Ever the gracious dinner guest.

Finishing up for the night at the stroke of twelve, it’s a final glass of châteaux le "on offer", a bit of a debrief and a contented crawl up the stairs to a welcome bed.


Day three.

After a morning of bashing the shit out of yet another rock masterpiece, we relax, briefly, with an episode of River Cottage. For those of you that haven’t had the pleasure, it’s some of the better things about England comfortingly wrapped around a cooking programme, like a tweed sleeping bag with a hot water bottle at the toe end. The bedraggle haired Hugh Fearnly-Whittingstall presents.

"I like Hugh" intones Rich.

"I like you too" I reply.


We pop our heads out of the studio to discover a delivery of cakes and gifts, which is rather lovely. Now all we need is a good storm so that we can go into storm-cake shutdown for a few hours.

No storm turns up, but Dougal (assistant to the stars) cooks a spectacularly hot vegetable curry utilising the delights of the Scotch Bonnet Pepper. Not for the faint hearted, I tell thee. Dan virtually ruins his dinner with an extra sprinkling of freshly chopped chilies and is forced to eat ice cream to lessen the pain. I reckon he did it just as an excuse to eat the ice cream, myself. Luckily, however, he has the comfort of a velour cushion named Shakira (No, I don’t know either) to lessen the blow and we head back into the control room sweating like a weight-watchers trampette-workout convention.

The trickiest of the songs are laid down today, we're right on schedule and confidence levels are running high.

Dan, Robin and I end up giggling around the kitchen table until 2am. Goodnight all and to all, a goodnight.


Day four.

I awake to one of those mornings cold enough to make you count to three before you let your feet touch the ground. I tell myself, out loud, that I must pull the rug closer to the bed to avoid unnecessary contact with the floorboards.

I can tell you right now that I will absolutely not get around to this, no matter how cold my toes.

A breakfast of Marmite and cheese on toast washed down with a piping hot coffee later and we set sail into the quickest paced number on the record. We nail it in minimal takes despite Kenny, the studio dog, jumping all over the sofa and putting Rich and I right off our chops.

"Right, that's it. I'm gonna have a Satsuma." Rich suggests.

"Oh mate, don't even go there," interjects Robin, "I tried one earlier. I was wearing more of it than I ate and there was about nine pips in every bleedin' segment."

Yet again, those little orange orbs have ruined his day.


"Going Under", the song we previewed at Download festival during the summer, is one of the grooviest tracks on the album and one which finds us having to find and "sit in" the "pocket". Finding that pocket can be tricky when we’re in the control room and Robin's in the live room and levels are being moved up and down around you, occasionally all you can hear is the thwack of the strings. We end up re-arranging the control-room setup and not only find the trousers, but the pocket reveals itself and we all jump into it, rather than merely sitting.

In other news, a "gold star" merit system has been introduced for the assistants. So far Dougal is ahead due, in no small part, to his quite fabulous lasagne. Alan (Alex) suddenly lost his lead because he sat on Shakira.

Later that evening on seeing a bottle of wine on the table I misread to be called Vengeance, I am prompted to ask, “Whose is the Vengeance?”

“Vengeance is MINE!” declares Robster. Good gag. See.


Day five.

A particularly pretty autumnal morning sets us up to tackle the two, potentially, biggest moments on the record.

Robin awakes to a note from Dan, which reads: “Rock Lobster (Robin) I've run you a bath. D x". He's good like that.

It’s so hot that he devils his kidneys.

This seems to be a good thing for drums skills and Robin piles into those poor old tubs with all the venom of a scorned lady. Hell hath no fury, and all that.

The day is spent largely boshing the hell out of songs and a fog rolls in, outside, just as Robin sends his final crash, er, crashing to an end. The sudden quiet and still and mystery of a good fog reminds me of when I was about seven or eight years old and, on such nights, would be allowed to sit out the front of the house in a sleeping bag, on one of the plastic sun-beds that were so necessary in 80’s Brighton, peering out into the murky night aided only with a torch. Its single beam would be visible just like that scene in E.T. where Elliott first meets his new squat friend. I’d feel all deep and poetic. As much as a seven or eight year old can, any road.

Evocative stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree.

What’s E.T. short for?.

He’s only got little legs.


We watch a bit of football to wind down. Rich and I have a giggling fit when Robin shouts, “That’s it…come on the Chels!” despite his beloved Chelsea not actually playing.

I suggest that at some point we should get some footage of a football game and have Robin commentate on it for the website. Such pundit-like exclamations of, “Fuck’s sake, your ball bag could have scored from there!” and helpful shouts of, “Useless…fucking… WANKER!” should surely be aired for public consumption.


I collapse into bed full of childhood memories thinking about the next day’s fun.

It’s Toby day.

A day dedicated to the playing of the bass.

The spanking of the plank.

The melodic underpinning of the rhythm.

The bit that nobody really listens to.

The job that, as Paul McCartney has gone on record to say, is generally done by “Fat lads”.

Hooray for me!


Day six.

I go through the lock-up and pick out six or so bass guitars that we should try. Different planks for different needs, you see.

We opt to begin with the oldest one.

A delicious old Fender Jazz Bass. All blistered yellowing crème and played-in frets. Lush.

I don’t even try another bass.

The others just sit there like awkward children not picked to play on the team.

Fuck ‘em.

They’re shit.


By dinnertime I’ve nailed just over half the album.

No small feat when you consider that despite a lot more experimentation and actual writing going on during the recording of last record, it took three days to do the bass on Beero.

To be fair, though, I’m not very good.


Then Dan gets so excited about the proposition of mince pies that he falls over the mangler.


Day seven.

Strictly speaking it’s the last day a phase one.

Everything’s gone so well to plan that we’re all somewhat expecting something to go wrong. So far we haven’t had to call the paramedics once. Amazing.

My bass lines thunder across the fields until about six o’clock, by which time the immortal words, “Right, Tobes, that’s you done!” are emitted from Dan’s mouth. Now all I have to do is backing vocals, which won’t be for a little while yet.

Hallowe’en looms. Dan decides to put a c.d. of scary sound effects on in the kitchen as I reheat the splendid Shepherd’s Moron (Pie- ask Robin why it’s called that. Nobody else has a Danny Larue) that Richie cooked us yesterday.

We blow up a couple of balloons which Kenny proceeds to burst within seconds, all the while making some of the strangest sounds to ever come out of a dog. He’s not right, that one.

Alan (Alex) wins the gold star competition and receives the golden boot for the month. Well done!

We get stuck into some wine and finish the day with Dan tidying the shit out of the kitchen like some OCD ridden lunatic. He’s right, though, and even through my overly refreshed haze, I can see that he’s made quite a difference.

I stumble to bed at Gawd knows what hour feeling content to the extreme that I’ve just recorded my part of the best record that’s gonna come out of this country for a good long while. My head’s going to hurt tomorrow, I know, but I’m so pleased with myself and, of course, my band-mates, that I don’t care.

Good god, it’s late.

Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. For now, I bid you adieu.

Pre-production. A cautionary tale…

Friday, October 09, 2009



How quickly a summer can slip by. Suddenly there are leaves everywhere and you want to turn your collars up against the wind, rather than just to look cool. It only seems a few days ago that Dan and I were bobbing around in the sea in inspired awe of our surroundings. The trouble is that it’s all very well getting in, but scrambling up that pebbled shelf muttering “Oww!” isn’t very dignified. There was me thinking I would emerge, James Bond-like, after my dip. I was more Daniel Johnston than Daniel Craig. Still, it was glorious!
The days are now drawing in. The tweed is coming out. Actually, the tweed never really went away did it? You’ve seen the snaps. Or followed my “Tweets”.
Brighton’s been a great place to be over the summer. Not least for me, getting back to my roots, as it were. I’ve been getting reacquainted with its nooks and crannies, some old and some new. It’s lively and vibrant and friendly. I haven’t once felt like someone wanted to punch me. London, on the other hand, feels like everyone wants to punch me. Which perhaps some of them do. No matter! It’s ace to be back in the bosom of such bohemia and bonhomie. Also, there appears to be a regular convention of wrist-slashingly unapproachable, tattoo’d, desperately “hot” young women knocking about which has been incredibly helpful for my personal state of mind. Ladies, I salute you… and will perhaps eventually pluck up the courage to actually say hello.
However, I digress somewhat.

What we’ve been here to do, most importantly, is write and demo our second record, which has, in short, come really very easily. “Difficult second album”?.. Apparently not.
If anything, I’m beginning to think of this as our first record. “Silver Spoons”, to me, is the sound of a band working out what they want to do. Experimenting. Feeling out what kind of band they want to be. In a lot of ways, SS&BB was the difficult second record and we’re able, now, to be whisked back in time and do the debut. A cocksure new band with a manifesto.
These noises we’ve been making are the sounds of a band that knows what it wants to do. Who know who they are and where they fit. We’ve each settled into our “roles” and are comfortable with what they are. Words have flopped out of us just as easily as the riffs and grooves have. We’re coherent. Well, most of the time.
Also, we’ve found ourselves writing with our audience in mind. Having played all those shows we know, far better than we did, what makes YOU jump around and go nuts which, in turn, makes us jump around and go nuts and everybody goes home with a sore neck and a big stupid grin.

When we first piled into Dan’s kitchen and plugged everything in there was no moment of thumb-twiddle and “Errrr, right then… what happens now?”
A great lump of rock immediately fell out of the ether and we let it take us where it naturally wanted to.
And that just kept happening.
The songs seemed to tell us what they wanted to be about, and how they were going to go. It was like we channelled the damn things. Perhaps we did. Who knows?
All I know is that in demo form, this record sounds fucking ace and is, for all intents and purposes, the record I’ve been wanting to make since 1991.

And so, in a fortnight’s time, we return to Leeders Farm to fire up the old Neve and commit these things to tape. Proper.
We’re going to attempt to film ourselves as we go, so you can see us while we work, as it were. I know we’ve said it before, but this time we have the right cables and know how to work iMovie. Well, Robin reckons it’s a “Piece of piss”, anyway.
I’m hoping for a good few of those brilliant electrical storms that Norfolk does so well. Added to the vibe last time and, no doubt, will again. In the very least it’s a chance to indulge in the legendary “Storm cake”. It’s just regular cake, of course. But if there’s a storm outside and you call a cake “Storm cake” you have an excuse, nay, a duty to eat it.
There’s a few ghosts hanging around up there now. But they’re all rather friendly, once you get to know ‘em. Apart from the poltergeist in Studio 2 and the Demon in the fireplace, of course.

Ahh, Leeders. The place where this whole crazy story started.
And what a story it has been, so far. More twists and turns than an M.Night Shyamalan movie and just as entertaining. In equal measures exhilarating and frustrating, happy and horrifying, funny and sad. People, it’s been emotional. And it’s only just started…

…Oh, as a bit of an afterthought, I have no idea why I titled this “A cautionary tale”. There is absolutely nothing to be cautious about. Apart from recording naked, a bit on-fire, which my doctor told me I should avoid.

In A Bar, Under The Sea...

Monday, August 10, 2009

In a bar, under the sea…

Well, just up the road from the sea, actually.
With this summer making great gains in apologising for last years terribly poor show, weather wise, one Brighton pub in particular has seen Stone Gods regularly propping up the bench outside with talk of, “I’m fairly sure that’s the best thing we’ve ever written”, “What rhymes with curmudgeonly” and “Three for two on Tuaca shots… who’s round is it, again?”

That’s right, people, album 2 is coming along leaps and bounds due, in no small part, to us generally not going to the pub before 10pm and all four of us seeming to be insanely prolific. Must be something in the water. We’re advocating drinking it, these days.

I know I’ve been a bit quiet on the blogging front, of late, and for that I apologise. There’s only so many ways you can say, “I’ve moved to Brighton and we’re writing and demoing songs like they’re going out of fashion”.
Aside from everything else, it’s been fantastic, personally, to be reacquainting myself with my hometown and hanging out with some lovely old friends and some equally charming new ones. After my fairly well, and somewhat red-cheekedly documented “bad mood” a few months back, the sea-side is doing wonders for my spirit and the position of my chin (It is now being kept resolutely “Up”).

That’s really all, for now, folks. I’ve got to run up the road and whack the harmonies on the newest member of our song family, which grows daily. Thanks for all your continued support. Won’t be long now, I promise.
Peace, Love and Grubbs burgers,
SG

Dragonforce Show Cancelled

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Hey Y'all

It is with very heavy hearts that we have to announce that our show with Dragonforce on 29th July has been cancelled.

This is due to personal reasons within the Dragonforce camp.

Refunds can be obtained from point of purchase.

SG

GUITARFEST - IMPORTANT UPDATE

Friday, July 10, 2009

Hey Y'all

Due to unforseen and unavoidable circumstances tomorrows performance as part of 'Guitarfest' at Birmingham NIA will be acoustic.

This was an absolute last resort for us, the only other option was to pull out of the show altogether and that just wasn't going to happen.

We are gutted that we won't be able to deliver the full rock assault to the good people of Guitarfest but, as they say, the show must go on so don't be shy, get down the front................WE'RE HAVING A JAMBOREE!!!!

SG

IT'S NEVER TOO EARLY TO ROCK!!!

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

HEY Y'ALL

JUST LETTING YOU ALL KNOW THAT WE WILL BE TAKING TO THE MAIN STAGE AT THIS YEARS 'DOWNLOAD' FESTIVAL ON SUNDAY 14TH JUNE AT 11.00AM

WHAT BETTER WAY TO CLEAR A HANGOVER THAN A HUGE SLICE OF ROCK???

SEE YOU DOWN THE FRONT

SG


GUITARFEST '09 - Birmingham NIA

Thursday, May 21, 2009

We at Stone Gods HQ are pleased to announce that we've been enticed out of the studio and will be appearing at this years 'Guitarfest' show at the Birmingham NIA on 11th July.



Find all you need to know right here..............



http://www.drumcompany.com/rocknpop/ranp_index.html



See you down the front!!!!



SG

Creativity Overload Update....

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Hey there all ye Stone Gods fans and friends;

Just a quick note to say we're holed up in a secret location and writing for the next record is being taken to the next level. Big riffs that stink like sleaze and groove like hell are flying out of us at a rate that doesn't look set to lessen. Anthems, anybody?

Photographic evidence of all this behavior can be found at - www.myspace.com/thestonegods.


Love as always,

SG.